The Vigil
by LauraCynthia
Summary: Originally published in "Everything Happens To Me" as "Guilt". McCoy and Chekov commiserate over the senseless death of a child. Rated K for OC death. RIP Anton Yelchin.


"Nurse, get me 15 ccs of evotalynine XT," McCoy muttered, his gaze still focused on the squirming toddler on the cot. He'd finally managed to calm the little boy down long enough to assess his condition. For someone who had been buried underneath the rubble of a crashed starship for at least seventy-two hours, he was remarkably healthy. Only a few scratches marred his tanned face. To be on the safe side, however, he'd administer antibiotics to the alert Cenutrian child. The toddler clapped his hands and gave McCoy a two-toothed grin, which the doctor returned with significantly more dentition. _Hate to wipe the smile off your face, darlin', but you'll thank me someday._

Accepting the hypospray from the outstretched hand of Nurse Etienne, he pressed the injector end against the child's thigh and released the medication. To Leonard's surprise, the boy merely looked down at his leg, tapping the spot with the fingers of his right hand before putting them in his mouth. "Brave boy. You could teach my captain a thing or two," he laughed. "Now let's get those scratches seen to, okay?" He knew the child couldn't possibly understand him, but the way he stared at McCoy with wide, almost anime-like eyes that were so serious made him wonder.

He took a moment to survey his surroundings. Patrulan Field Hospital 8 was still a work in progress; boxes of supplies and makeshift curtains divided the triage areas from waiting and surgical sections. If you wanted to find anything in particular, your tricorder was your best bet. Personally, McCoy didn't see how anyone could stand this kind of disorganization, but he supposed it was better than no hospital at all.

Three days ago, a ship full of Cenutrians escaping famine conditions on their homeworld had crashed into the colony planet Patrula IV. The passenger craft had been absolutely stuffed to the gills with desperate people longing for a second chance; many had sold all they owned just to buy passage, which wasn't much. While Cenutria _did_ possess warp technology, most of the refugees were poor civilians with little access to such things, so to have a man show up and offer to take them somewhere new must have seemed like a miracle. McCoy didn't have a single nice word for the slimeball trader who'd actually _taken_ their money, but he supposed it didn't really matter. The man was beyond caring, having been incinerated on impact. _Good riddance_.

As the colony planet was a good distance away from the Patrulan homeworld, Field Hospital 8 was ill-prepared for the sudden influx of patients resulting from the crash. That was where the _Enterprise_ came in. Forty-six hours ago, they'd picked up the request for immediate medical assistance on the comms, much to McCoy's relief. He had been on the losing end of a three-dimensional chess game with Spock and was on the verge of having to admit defeat when he'd been summoned. _Knowing him, the board's probably_ still _just as I left it._ It had been sheer chaos from the moment they arrived to about three hours ago, when a Patrulan vessel had arrived with reinforcements. Fortunately, Cenutrian anatomy wasn't that different from other races they'd encountered in the past, so McCoy and his staff were a little more confident.

Picking up a small tissue regenerator, he held it near the child's temple, effectively erasing a half-inch scratch above his left eyebrow. The child tried to reach for it with chubby hands, but McCoy moved the instrument slightly and continued to work. "Hey, that's not a toy; it's a highly sophisticated piece of medical equipment."

"Is what is?" A flutelike voice from behind McCoy made him pause and look to his right. A small girl child, about 8 or 9 in human years, leaned over the edge of the cot, her fingers splayed across its surface. _How did she get in here?_ "Is what is, Doctor?" She shot a brief glance at McCoy's patient, but the toddler seemed more interested in his toes than the intruder.

McCoy tipped his head to one side, regenerator poised in midair. "Now who might you be, young lady?"

"Be I Malua." A mat of tight dark curls covered her small head. She looked up at him kind of shyly, but with intelligence. She tugged on his hand. "Help you? Water?" Her wide eyes pleaded with him to say yes.

McCoy licked his lips. "Well, now that you mention it, I _am_ kind of thirsty..." Malua needed no further encouragement. Like a flash, she darted past the curtain and down the corridor, small white sandals tapping against the earth. He chuckled and returned his attention to the little boy, who was now tugging on one corner of the cot's clean sheet.

Just as he finished with the last scratch, a slight breeze tickled his spine. "That you again, Malua?" He picked up his patient in his arms and turned around, only to bump into a curly haired lieutenant carrying a PADD.

"No, doctor." Pavel Chekov tucked the tablet under one arm and poked the child's nose, eliciting a soft squeal. "Who is this?" he asked.

McCoy hefted the child higher up on his hip. "I don't know, to be honest. Poor little fella was trapped in a crawlspace when rescue teams found him. Really hoping he's not an orphan." He nodded at the PADD. "Got something for me?"

Chekov removed the PADD from under his arm and blushed as he looked down at the screen. "Sorry. I got distracted. The Cenutrian Civilian Authority _finally_ granted us access to their wital statistics databases."

He didn't elaborate, but McCoy could well imagine that getting to "finally" had involved a good deal of red tape cutting on the captain's part. _I owe you one, Jim._ "It's about darn time," he sighed, taking the PADD from Chekov.

"I've tagged all individuals believed to be aboard the _Haweel_ vhen it crashed. We've already managed to account for some of the living and...most of the dead." Chekov stared down at his feet. "Fingerprint and DNA data is on there, too."

"Now we're getting somewhere." McCoy tapped the screen twice, bringing up the reader. He turned to the toddler, who stuck out his tongue at McCoy. "Hey, that isn't very nice. See this device, kid? It's gonna tell me your name." He pressed the child's finger to the screen, and almost instantly, a record file popped up. "'Thukas Marol'," he read. "According to this, we've got his mother in ward 3. She'll be happy to see her little-"

The curtain parted again, and Malua entered, carrying a small cup of clear liquid. "Drink you have now."

McCoy set down the PADD and accepted the cup from her small hands. "Thank you, Malua." He drank, surprised by the light, fruity taste. "This isn't water. What is it?"

"Flower water." The young girl walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, swinging her feet back and forth, eyes once again fixed on the regenerator.

"Is that who you thought I vas?" Chekov asked, pointing to Malua.

"Uh huh. I think she wants to be my little helper. Offered to get me water." He passed Thukas to Chekov, who took the child in his arms. "How'd you like to facilitate a family reunion, Pavel?"

Chekov nodded. "I'd love to. C'mon, Thukas. Your mommy will be so happy to see you!" As they left the room together, Thukas began to sing loudly.

McCoy let the curtain fall closed and stepped back towards the cot. Malua was studying the regenerator closely. "Is help this?" she asked, holding up a bloody finger. "Like boy?"

"Let me see that, sugar." McCoy took her thin wrist in his hand, feeling her pulse beat against his palm, and inspected her small wound. While the tiny pulled hangnail wound would be classified in the "suck it up, baby" category if an officer came into sickbay with one, little girls were another matter altogether. "Hmm...I think we can fix this up." He lifted her up onto the cot gently, clicked on the device and began to repair the damaged tissue. Malua watched with wonder as her wound closed underneath the beam. "See? All better," he assured her, switching off the regenerator.

She studied her finger from several different angles, then grabbed his sleeve. "You I show, let do."

"Let do what?" McCoy asked, frowning, but not unkindly.

Her hand reached for the regenerator again. "Please, let do. Help I one. Like you," she continued, sliding off the edge of the cot.

Realization dawned. "Oh. You want to help fix someone? Like I did?" He crouched down until he was eye level with her. "Good for you. I think you'd make a _fine_ doctor someday."

Her gaze flicked away from his, darkening. "Not doctor. I Xami always." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Xami nothing." A tear ran down her face. "Forget."

There were three different subraces on Cenutria. Xami were the Dalits of their people, the untouchables; a majority of the injured refugees were Xami.

McCoy's heart ached for her. _No wonder they left. No future even without the famine._ "Tell you what, Malua," he whispered, brushing the tear from her cheek, "you go right ahead and forget, okay? _This_ is your home now, Patrula IV. If you want to be a doctor, if that's your dream, don't you _ever_ stop dreaming. 'Cause you're gonna make it. You are a very special little girl, Malua. You hear me?"

Malua nodded, sniffling. Suddenly, she threw her arms around McCoy's neck. "Like you much," she whispered back, her voice muffled by his sweater.

Leonard returned the hug, feeling warm all over. "Like you much too." He stood up slowly and took her hand in his. "Tell you what; why don't you come along on rounds with me?" Malua smiled up at him and nodded. As she followed him out of the room, he began preparing a list of Cenutrians who weren't too badly injured that they could visit together.

McCoy splashed his face with cold water, shivering. After four hours of visiting patients and showing Malua how to "help" them get better, he was dead on his feet. _But not sorry._ A smile crossed his lips as he remembered how his little protégée had measured vital signs and studied scans, a thoughtful expression on her young face. She was like a little sponge soaking up every word McCoy said, asking him about blood and numbers and medicine. Most of the _Enterprise_ staff still remaining planetside were amused by the scene. Lieutenant Uhura had even kidded McCoy about his little shadow when she'd come to the field hospital delivering blankets and stuffed toys for the children. She'd offered Malua a teddy bear, but the child didn't seem to notice, too busy poring over an image of a broken bone on a PADD.

"Too busy with her studies to play?" Uhura asked McCoy

The doctor put an arm around the girl's shoulders. "Well, Malua here wants to be a doctor. I'm teaching her a little bit."

"Good for her." Uhura nodded. "And you, too, Leonard."

"I'm not the _only_ bleeding heart around here." McCoy raised an eyebrow. "I have it on good authority that those little goodies you're giving out cost _somebody_ a month's worth of replicator credits."

Uhura blushed. "So I'll skip dessert for a little while. It was worth it. Besides," she added, "even though it was my idea, everybody kind of chipped in."

"Still though..." He raked a hand over his face. "How's Jim doing with the negotiations? Making progress?"

The lieutenant smiled. "Moving right along. The Patrulan government has agreed to grant refugee status to the Cenutrians. Looks like they've got a new home."

McCoy looked down at Malua. "Hear that? You get to stay." She gave him a bright smile and returned to her studies.

After Uhura left, McCoy had picked up the PADD with identification records on it and held it out to the girl. "Malua, would you touch this screen for me?" He'd been meaning to figure out who she belonged to since he met her, but had held back, afraid of what he might find out.

The girl tapped the screen with her finger once. McCoy took the PADD and held it behind his back. "Thank you. You've been a very good helper. But I bet you're hungry. Why don't you go down to the eating room and get some dinner?"

"Yes go." Malua slid off her chair and headed out through the curtain, leaving the PADD with the bone picture behind.

McCoy crossed the room and lowered himself into the chair, looking down at the records. Malua Rsera was actually closer to eleven, though he supposed the famine had something to do with her younger appearance. He stilled as he'd seen that the familial cross-reference field remained blank. _No family here...how did she wind up on the_ Haweel? A quick look revealed that the girl had no living close relatives, no home address, and no assets to speak of on Cenutria. _Probably stowed away. It wouldn't be hard in a crowd that large._

He exchanged a nod with a Patrulan doctor as the man left the temporary washroom facility. _Now, to find a bed somewhere...I don't care if it's cozy. Heck, I don't even care if it's_ clean _. I'll sleep on the_ floor _if I have to._ He thought longingly of his bed on the _Enterprise_ , sighing. He wouldn't see it for a couple more days; Jim had gone to rendezvous with a second Patrulan supply ship that had become disabled halfway to the colony. _Time was, I used to be homesick for Earth..._

McCoy shoved his hands in his pockets, surprised when he felt nothing there. _I thought I put that regen-_ "Malua." He smiled and shook his head. "Little pickpocket." The device had held as much wonder to the child as a magic trick. _Oh, well. I'll ask her for it back tomorrow._ _Now, to get some shuteye..._

McCoy looked down at the sleeping infant nestled in his mother's arms. _Lucky you._ He'd only gotten three hours of sleep before he'd been roused by a nurse to deliver the little bundle, who'd finally arrived at the crack of dawn. It had been a difficult labour, but you wouldn't know it by the look of utter contentment on the new mother's face. He made some notes on her record, passing the PADD to a nurse. _I wish Malua could see this..._ He wondered where the girl was; since last night, he hadn't seen hide nor hair of her, despite having visited several other patients that morning.

A low rumble shook the curtain rods, and everybody in the ward steadied themselves. McCoy leaned on a stack of crates. _What was that?_ He thought of the rescue teams, which had switched to recovery at this point. _Where there's wreckage, there's_ always _danger._ They'd already had to treat several crewmembers for wounds caused by falling debris from the _Haweel_. "Get ready for another influx, Ellis," he said. "New day, new problems."

The nurse finished washing her hands and snapped on a fresh pair of gloves. "You know it." She tipped her chin in the direction of the eating room. "You might want to fortify yourself while you have the chance."

"Good idea." Ducking down the hall, he joined the line for the only working replicator and made himself a buttered bagel, folding both slices in half and downing them in two bites, washing them down with a cup of coffee. _To blazes with choking hazards..._ Just as he finished the last dregs, a loud cry caught his attention.

"HELP!"

McCoy dropped his cup on the ground, running for the front door. He shoved the flap open and looked out into the distance, shading his eyes. A lone figure was flying down the hillside, arms laden with a heap of... _something...dripping. Wait...not something, some_ one... _oh, God..._ "Over here!" he called, frantically waving the individual closer.

"Doctor McCoy!" Pavel Chekov ran up to him and skidded to a stop. His face was as pale as a sheet,, eyes wide open, his breathing heavy. Wet blood stained his gold uniform shirt. "I couldn't get there in time! I...couldn't..." A large gash ran down his right arm; several scratches covered his hands. Both sleeves were reduced to ribbons near the cuffs.

"Shhh..." McCoy placed a hand on his arm to steady him, then opened his arms to receive the limp body. It was feather-light. _A child..._ His heart clenched. "I'll take it from here," he assured the young navigator. "What happened?" he asked as he headed quickly for the trauma section, beckoning to nearby nurses to follow him.

Chekov followed behind, wringing his hands. "I-I vas at the v-vreckage site, downloading information from the flight c-computer. There were some children, playing n-nearby. I shooed them avay _several_ times. But there vas one...she said she heard something inside." He bit his lower lip. "I told her, _'stop, don't go in there, it's dangerous'_ , but she didn't listen. Just said, _'Help I them'._ " A swallow and a shake of his head. "She vas in the cargo section, and s-suddenly there was a-a-an _explosion_ -"His voice choked off.

"Thank you, Pavel," McCoy nodded. "Make sure you get someone to see to your _own_ wounds." The officer nodded back, and stayed in the corridor. A nurse handed him a bottle of water on her way into the room and he thanked her.

McCoy rushed through the door of a trauma room, setting the bloody bundle on a cot. His mind whirled with the information Chekov had given him. _Explosion...wreckage...so burns and shrapnel injuries..._ Reaching for a tricorder on a cart nearby, he turned it on, then turned his attention to the child on the cot.

Leonard gaped in horror. Angry red burns covered her face and arms. The fabric of her dress was melted in some spots, sticking to her skin; in other places, pieces of dark blue metal pinned it against her body. A nine-inch shard jutted out of her chest on the left side. _Dear Lord in heaven..._ He scanned her life signs as medical staff filled the room. Nothing registered. "No vital signs...nurse, give me 10 ccs of-" _Clink_. A small object rolled out of the child's dress pocket and onto the floor.

McCoy stilled, his own heart stopping. _The regenerator_... _Malua._ He lifted one hand to his mouth, shocked. _She's unrecognizable..._ The world seemed to tilt on its axis, and everything began to blur. He blinked, turning back to the girl's body, and watched for several minutes as the other medical officers and Patrulan staff ran diagnostics on her. After two minutes, their activity slowed. McCoy strained to hear the sound of life signs registering on the monitors. None came.

He grabbed the arm of Dr. Qawveko, the Patrulan surgeon who'd given him a rushed five-minute tour of the facility prior to his beginning to work there. "Did you try the rhyscempaline? Ketingaidium?!"

Qawveko frowned, trying to move past him. "Yes, Doc-"

McCoy shook the man's arm, eyes wide, face close to the other man's. "What about tweribium metacalcate-surely that-"

The doctor shook his head. "It wouldn't have _worked_ , Doctor. She was too far gone." He put a hand on McCoy's shoulder, his single eyelid lowering. "I'm sorry. Really, I am. I know you cared about her." Qawveko pushed past McCoy and stepped out of the room. Behind them, medical staff worked to clean up the used tools and meds.

A nurse lifted a yellow sheet and pulled it over Malua's body. Tears slipped from McCoy's eyes. _She can't be dead! She just can't be._ The vital signs monitor cut as it was turned off. Staff filed out of the room, leaving only McCoy and the child who'd thought he could make everything better. He pictured her curious, intelligent face as he fixed her boo-boo, the way she had studied everything he had showed her...

He swallowed hard and staggered backwards into a chair. As he slumped down into it, the leg of the chair hit the edge of the regenerator. As he reached down for it, it seemed smaller in his hands than it had before. McCoy switched it on and off.

And then he remembered what Chekov had said.

 _"I told her, '_ stop, don't go in there, it's dangerous' _, but she didn't listen. Just said, '_ Help I them' _."_

 _'_ Help I them _.' She went. Into the wreckage. To help._

 _Just like me._

A sick feeling roiled in his gut. _I killed her. I KILLED her._ Rage boiled up in his chest and he squeezed the regenerator hard until his knuckles turned white. "AGH!" He threw it, hard, against the floor, then reached for the curtain, ripped it down, and balled it up, chest heaving. _She's dead because of me. Because I told her it was okay to dream. I told her. I killed her..._

He didn't know how he wound up on the floor on his knees, crying, or how a mug of mint tea wound up in his hands, a blanket around his shoulders. He didn't know how long he slept after that, only that he woke up in a dark, quiet room, somewhere in the field hospital. Alone.

Unwrapping the blanket around him, he sat up on the cot and slid towards the edge. A pitcher and a cup lay on a pushcart nearby. _Water_... _she brought me water._ He poured himself some and drank, knowing dehydration wouldn't do him any favours. Blinking, he rubbed some of the crust out of his eyes and stretched. _I can't stay here...I've got to do something._..

McCoy headed down the hall, realizing it was late by the darkness of the rooms. He stopped a nurse briefly, and when she gave him the answer he was looking for, he thanked her and turned right, stopping at a small room at the end of the corridor. He shoved his hand into his pocket and felt the slim barrel of the regenerator. _How did that...never mind._

He flipped up the curtain and stepped inside. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. Malua's small body lay on a small table on the left side of the room. She had been cleaned and dressed in a soft gray robe by two of the Cenutrian women who had been given the task. Normally, in Cenutrian culture, someone would sit all night with the body of the deceased, usually a close relative. But Malua had no one. _Except me..._

Leonard swallowed and pulled a small folding stool close to the girl's side, sitting down. He reached out a hand and stroked her head gently, feeling her curls, now clean and unmatted, against his fingers. "Hey, sugar. Don't be afraid. I'm not going to leave you alone tonight." He took her hand in his and kissed it, eyes closed, feeling the chill of death on his lips. "I may have failed you once, Malua, but not again." Tears leaked from his eyes. "Not again."

A soft breeze came from the entryway, and McCoy's heart thudded, half expecting the little girl to be standing there, alive and smiling. He lifted his head, only to see Chekov instead. "May I come in?"

McCoy nodded. "Sure." He pulled another chair up, and Chekov crossed the room, sitting down slowly. "How's your arm?"

"Is good, thank you, Doctor." Chekov leaned forward, looking at Malua's peaceful face. "I-I just had to be here tonight."

"I know how you feel." McCoy frowned as the Russian sniffled, trying to hide it with a cough. "Pavel?" He put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you crying?"

" _Nyet_. Vell, maybe..." He looked up at McCoy, his face still pale, his freckles standing out. He covered his face with his hands and muttered something unintelligible.

McCoy leaned forward. "What is it?"

"It's all _my_ fault," Chekov said, inhaling shakily.

 _What?_

"I should have run faster...maybe then I could have stopped her from going in there. She vould be alive now if I had only gotten there in time." He sighed. "I am so, so, sorry, Doctor."

McCoy stood up suddenly, knocking his stool over. "No. No, Pavel. Don't be. It's _not_ your fault. If you _had_ run faster, _you'd_ be lying under a sheet, too!" He began to pace back and forth, making tight circles. "Don't blame yourself for her death. It's not _your_ fault at all! It's _mine_!"

Pavel's mouth formed an O. "How? The doctor said they did every-"

" _They_ did everything they could! What did I do? Couldn't even _move_ when I saw who it was lying there!" He rubbed his forehead, eyes squeezed shut. "Not only that, it was because of _me_ that she even got k-killed in the first place!" He bent over the navigator, punctuating his words with finger jabs at Chekov's chest. "She said to me that she couldn't be a doctor because where she comes from, she's nothing. And what did I do? I looked her in the eyes and told her to dream big, to believe it could happen someday." He let out a strangled cry. "She was going into the wreckage to _help_ someone, Pavel." McCoy held up the regenerator in one hand. "Just like I showed her." He shook his head sadly. "I may as well have blown up the fool ship myself. I _killed_ that _precious_ little girl. I-"

"No." Chekov shook his head.

McCoy paused. "No, what?"

Chekov straightened up McCoy's stool and pulled him down onto it. His face took on a serious expression as he exhaled softly. "No, you did _not_ do anything wrong." He leaned forward, arms resting on his thighs. "You gave her _hope_ , Doct-"

"Yeah. False hope."

" _Listen_ _to me."_ The lieutenant grabbed him by the shoulders. "You may have been the first person in her entire _life_ to tell her that she mattered. That she was special, waluable. _Loved_. Every child needs to hear that." He paused. "You did _not_ kill Malua. Think, _Doctor_." Chekov placed a hand on top of McCoy's arm. "She vould have tried to help anyvay. That's who she _vas_."

 _She brought me water..._ McCoy closed his eyes, shuddering. "I-I want to believe that. But I can't help thinking, if I'd just-"

"There vas nothing else you could do. Nothing else _anyvone_ could do." The lieutenant's features softened as he realized what he'd just said. " _Anyvone_..." He sighed. "Except this." He placed one warm hand over the little girl's cold one. "Keep wigil, I mean."

Leonard smiled sadly at the young man. "Yes. Yes, we can do that much." The soft sound of footsteps echoed away from their room, along with the rattling sound of a pushcart. He flipped up a small flap in the wall and looked out at the dark burgundy sky, peppered by twinkling stars. Soft, red moonlight shone on his face. _It's going to be a long, sad night._ He looked back at Pavel, who was muttering something softly in Russian, probably a prayer. _But not a lonely one...goodnight, Malua._


End file.
